A Deal
by Hotarukun
Summary: How Philip gets roped into saving Blackbeard's soul.


**AN: I watch a movie and I picture things. Review for honest opinion please and thanks, loves.**

Swaying...swaying...

He'd died and gone to Hell...and Philip knew it had to be Hell...because he was on a bloody ship again...

A groan escaped his lips and he blinked blearily, waiting for an onslaught of light but was rewarded with a dim picture of a shadowy figure and was that a table and...it smelled a bit odd...

"Oh, good. You are awake."

The tone was very obviously put-off sounding, but was also clearly feminine, sultry and affected with an exotic accent.

Maybe he'd made it to Heaven after all.

He groaned again, his head and arms so heavy the mere thought of lifting them sent him a wave of exhaustion. "...Where...am I?" He asked through a raw throat, choking a bit on the last word, and covering his mouth.

There was a rustle of cloth and a few light steps before there was a cool, small hand on his forehead and low, sighing, almost annoyed sigh. "You are on _Queen__Anne's__Revenge_. Your other ship wrecked, and you are the only one who survived." It took him a while to comprehend what she had said, for the words were rapidly fired and in that thick accent and at the same time, were devoid of absolutely any emotion at all.

Philip blinked again and shifted. Someone had bandaged his arm. Quite well, actually. His cross bumped against his bare chest and a quick glance to his left told him his bible, while seemingly drying, was visible on the table near the cot he was occupying. Tilting his head up, he was not surprised to see the woman, while petite and with sour expression, was incredibly beautiful. Dark hair and eyes, beautiful figure and clearly looking to make a deal.

_Pirates._

"Everyone else...was killed?"

"Burned to death," she said so distinctly and with such finality, that Philip wondered if she was looking to upset him to use that to her advantage.

"What is your name?" He murmured, lifting his eyebrow slightly at her when her big brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Angelica, although that is unimportant."

"How so?"

"You are a holy man, yes?"

Her sudden and abrupt, if not complete skirting of his question, made him frustrated. "My name is Philip. I am a missionary...yes."

Angelica sat down on a stool next him. He was curious if she had been with him more than she would like him to know. "I would like you to save my father's soul."

Philip sat back a bit in resignation, disappointed again in the changing times of society. "That is why you saved me." She was silent, but blinked a bit too innocently for his liking. "Is it not?" He prompted, expression tight.

Angelica rolled her eyes, crossing one leg over the other, long skirts swishing. "I do not take the effort to save things I cannot later use," she said in such a nonchalant, brutally honest tone that he blinked, wondering if he should find disgust with her or admiration.

"You are the one who needs to be saved, Angelica," Philip said quite solemnly.

Her eyes flashed and she jutted her head at him in such a way, that it reminded him of a raven sizing someone up.

He was not to call her by her name again.

"My father," she said curtly. "Is my main concern. And as long as you are on this ship, alive, you will focus your energy on making sure my father arrives in Heaven." Her mouth twitched downward slightly and she looked briefly concerned, if only for a moment or two. "I fear for his soul and the sins he has committed."

"I will pray for him," Philip said automatically and Angelica's shoulders relaxed as if those words were a heavy relief to her.

"I am afraid I am now of little use to him," she said in a lower tone and Philip peered at her before nodding, accepting his next new mission. That is what it was to him.

She was looking at him, still, and he wondered why. He didn't really have a choice, did he?

"Thank you."

She almost jumped at the phrase and he wondered how often she sincerely heard it.

"For what?" As if he were a madman.

"For saving my life," he replied, confused.

"Oh. That." She waved her hand, standing. "As soon as you are able to move, you will join the rest of the crew."

Philip groaned imperceptibly again, before jerking. "What...Who is your father?" He might recognize the name. He had been at sea for months, working on converting a separate pirate ship.

She paused, turning, before a smirk curled onto her face.

_Not a raven._

_She's the cat who ate the raven._

"Blackbeard."


End file.
